Dream of:
30 October 1989 (2) "Thinking About God"Sitting in a beauty parlor, I was conversing with
my mother, who was having her hair done. Although my mother wanted to talk with me, I was feeling rather disconsolate and I didn't feel like continuing the conversation with her at the moment. When she insisted, I finally muttered that she and I had a problem because we never discussed our problems. She immediately retorted that she didn't want to talk about that. I said that was fine, because I hadn't wanted to talk about the matter in the first place.Finally, with a small plastic bag in my hand, I rose, walked out the door and crossed the street. As I departed, it occurred to me that
Birdie had also been inside the beauty saloon, and that Birdie had been the beautician working on my mother's hair. Remembering that I had lately been dating Birdie again, I thought she would be surprised when she realized I had walked out without saying anything to her. I hadn't even told her whether I would see her again later that day.As I continued my course down the street, I watched my shadow on the ground, and noticed how long my hair had become, down around my shoulders. My long hair made me recall the other thing on my mind: selling drugs. For quite a while I had been contemplating selling drugs, but I hadn't yet decided to do so.
My old debauched buddy from high school,
Walls, crossed my mind. I thought about what happened to Walls when he smoked marijuana. For example, I didn't believe Walls thought about God when he was smoking. In contrast, when I used marijuana, God was usually the main thing on my mind. For some reason, I believed if I sold drugs, I would no longer think about God when I smoked marijuana. The idea didn't please me, because I enjoyed thinking about God.I also thought about
my father. Since I thought I might see him soon, I wondered what he would think about my hair being so long. I would probably say something to him like, "Long time, no see."A woman in a pink dress crossed the street. She resembled
Mireya (a woman from Columbia whom I had recently met in Dallas) but I couldn't tell for sure if the woman was Mireya. Although I wondered what she was doing there, I didn't say anything to her.Copyright 2011 by luciddreamer2k@gmail.com
